


Every Light In The House Is On

by watanuki_sama



Series: Every Light In The Dark [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: And also plot-relevant, Because it's funny, But it's not a songfic, Established Puppyshipping, Even though it's a really awesome song, Inspired by the titular song, Japanese names, M/M, Seto has low alcohol tolerance, You should check it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watanuki_sama/pseuds/watanuki_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every light in the house was on, like a beacon in the night. But that didn't mean Jou would see it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Light In The House Is On

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 01/19/2009 on ff.net under the penname 'EFAW.'

The sinking sun sent streaks of purple and pink and orange into the sky, coloring the clouds with a warm glow. Across the city, couples were watching the sunset with wonder, holding each other tightly and enjoying the moment, enjoying being _together_ with one another. In one house on the edge of the city, however, a lone male sat in his kitchen, facing the large French doors and watching the colors in the sky mesh and blend and dance. On the table sat a cheap bottle of wine, no more than fifty dollars at best, and in his hand he had a glass tumbler half-full of the ruddy liquid. It was disgusting bitter stuff, compared to his more refined tastes, but today was a special day, and he figured he might as well get drunk on stuff _he_ could afford.

After all, today was the three-month anniversary of when _he_ left.

The young man watched the last remains of the sunset, the pinks and oranges slowly fading to purples and blues. Eventually, even the last shred of color died, leaving only inky navy laid over the sky. For a moment or two, the young man sat there, still and silent, watching as the lights of the city before him flickered to life, spots of brightness in the darkness.

When the last light had turned on in the domain beyond the glass, he stood, bringing the tumbler to his lips. In one fluid motion, he swallowed all of the liquid, face twisting at the sour taste of the cheap drink. Setting the glass back down on the table, he moved, flipping open a panel on the kitchen wall. One by one, his hand started flicking switches, and elsewhere, lights flickered to life in the big house. Some lights were used often, coming to life almost instantly, and some lights were less used, flickering slightly before burning bright. But in these past three months, he'd had every light burning bright, a beacon in the dead of the night, and damned if those lights didn't come on instantly at his command.

When every switch in the breaker had been turned on, and when every light inside the house and out in the lawn had been turned on, he turned, going back to his seat. Silently, he picked up the tumbler and the wine again, sloshing more of the inferior drink into the glass. Had he been less refined, he might had just taken it straight from the bottle, because that was all this nasty drink deserved, but his manners and his pride wouldn't let him.

The glass full now, he set the bottle back down, eyes going back to the French doors and the vista beyond.

And Kaiba Seto waited, no longer hoping as he had those first few weeks, but waiting nonetheless.

At this point, he kind of figured that Jou wasn't coming back. Oh, they'd had fights before, to be sure. It was impossible for such opposites to be together and _not_ fight, especially considering their previous history with one another. However, the constant bickering had never escalated to the point it did, and even if Jou stormed off in an angry huff shouts threats that _this_ time it was over, _this_ time he wasn't coming back, it was never like _this_. Jou would sit and stew at Yuugi's place, or at Honda's, and for a while that would be that.

But he would always come back by morning.

Oh, but not this time.

Seto downed his glass of wine, immediately pouring himself another glass.

Maybe he should just give up. Three months. It had been three months, and Jou wasn't back yet. As a logical, rational thinker, he should be able to put the pieces together and come to a conclusion; Jou wasn't _ever_ coming back. Never ever again.

The third glass of wine quickly followed the second, and a fourth was welcomed with eager arms.

He couldn't even remember what the fight was about. It was probably just a silly little thing, stemming from a stupid word or some fanciful idea one of them had come up with. It seemed they were always fighting lately, one of them was always blowing up at the slightest provocation.

But that fight had been worse than the others. It had just grown bigger and bigger, the words thrown between them adding fuel to the fire. And then one of them brought loved ones in, he couldn't remember who, and the insults were flying even farther and harder than before, because it was one thing to insult each other, but to insults friends and family was another thing entirely.

The next thing he knew, Jou was storming out with a bag on his shoulder, and Seto was left alone.

_"I'll leave a light on for you."_

_"Don't bother. I'm not coming back."_

More wine please.

That night, he'd gone to bed, the light buzzing away in the front hall. Jou always came back; Seto was confident that this time he'd come back too.

But the other side of the bed was cold the next morning, and when he went downstairs, Jou wasn't sleeping on the couch in the den either. He did that sometimes, when he was pissed at Seto. It wasn't like it was a trial or anything; it was a massive stuffed couch that was more than comfortable to sleep on. He wasn't in any of the guest rooms either, or in the study, or even curled up on the little loveseat in Mokuba's room.

Seto had gotten a sinking feeling then, and he'd called Yuugi up. He still wasn't on the greatest of terms with the smaller duelist, but the first place Jou (almost) always went when he was angry was Yuugi's.

Yuugi informed him that Jou _had_ spent the night, but he wasn't there right now, and did they have another fight?

It didn't matter, he'd said, it was nothing. Everything would be wrapped up by nightfall.

In fact, it _was_ wrapped up by nightfall. Just not the way he'd expected.

He'd come home to find Jou going through the dresser, shoving clothing into one of several bags. Everything he owned, every trinket he'd ever bought or gotten or found, he'd shoved in a bag. All his clothes, all his toiletries, _everything_ that was _Jou's_ disappeared into a bag.

The sinking feeling got larger, but Seto didn't let it show. He was used to Jou's angry ideas, and he was still confident that Jou would be back. He always came back.

"I'll leave a light on for you," he'd said from the doorway, as Jou shoved the last of his clothes in the bag and zipped it up.

"I appreciate it," the blond snarled, pulling the bags onto his shoulder. "Don't bother. I'm not coming back."

But Seto was sure he would.

He always came back.

_Except he didn't._

As the days passed, Seto slowly added more lights. First it was just the hall light. Then he turned on the den light before he went to bed. Then the kitchen, the study, the guest rooms, even the bathrooms. By the time a month passed, every light that was used regularly was turned on.

When Seto started playing with the circuit breakers, turning on lights that hadn't been used often since his stepfather's reign, the live-in staff decided to spend the interim in a hotel or at their family's home. They would come back, they said, when their master stopped this foolishness and turned off the lights during the night.

_Not until Jou came back._

Because Seto said he'd leave a light on for Jou, but one light apparently wasn't enough, because Jou hadn't come back yet. So if he turned them _all_ on, then Jou would be able to see it easier, and he'd come home.

When there were no more lights to turn on in the house, he'd moved to the yard. Mokuba had jokingly remarked that the front walk looked like a runway, with the floodlights bordering the wide driveway. You could land a plane there, with the way they were lit up. But if it wasn't carrying Jou, Seto wouldn't allow it to touch ground.

Mokuba was staying with Roland in a hotel, waiting for 'Niisama's silliness' to pass just like the maids. He came back every morning, and left in the evening, but Mokuba needed his sleep. Seto simply couldn't have his brother's bedroom light be dark; he needed Jou to see.

Hotels were plenty dark during the night. Mokuba would be alright.

And the sooner Jou came back, the sooner everything would go back to normal. They'd be a _family_ again.

Wine please, thank you very much.

Seto was just glad that it wasn't a busy season at work right now. This was affecting his sleep. Not the lights, because he'd more often than not fallen asleep in front of his computer in a brightly lit room. No, it was the waiting that was killing him. He was terrified that if he fell asleep for too long, Jou would come and go without him knowing, and everything would be for nothing. He couldn't have that.

He had, however, gotten quite efficient at the fifteen-minute catnap. For fifteen minutes an hour, he managed to sleep wherever he was sitting, and for fifteen minutes he could rest. Even during the day, he had his secretary set aside fifteen minutes an hour for him to rest. Otherwise, he'd be dead on his feet, which simply wouldn't do. Even if the tabloids were currently proclaiming him to be an eccentric billionaire, he had an image to maintain.

At least he didn't have too many neighbors. That had been one of the reasons he'd stayed here after Gozaburo died. One, because it was the Kaiba home, and Two, because it was isolated. No one to complain of the lights. If there had been too many complaints, he might not have been able to keep the lights on. Bribing the police to look the other way only went so far.

At least his staff was easily placated. So long as he paid for the hotels or hostels or wherever they were staying, they didn't care if he was a crazy old coot or a pining lover or anything. Just so long as he paid them, they didn't care what he did. Even the really loyal ones like Roland had a limit for his eccentricities.

Oh, that was depressing him. He needed more wine.

Maybe he was getting drunk. He was steadily finding that the wine was starting to taste better and better. Considering how disgusting he thought it started out as, he _must_ be drunk. Amazing how drinking the terrible wine could make the wine all the more appealing. Definitely amazing, it was.

Refill please.

Seto blinked, a little annoyed, a little surprised, when he tilted the bottle over and nothing came out. He stared at the empty bottle, frowning slightly and trying to find a solution to this dilemma. Eventually an idea pushed through the drunken haze, an idea that was so perfectly simple it was a wonder he hadn't thought of it before.

_Get more wine._

Pushing himself upright -a little unsteady, but at least in a vaguely vertical position- the brunette teetered for a moment, brow crinkling as he tried to puzzle out where the cook would hide wine. He didn't usually drink wine -in fact, he rarely drank at all- so he didn't have a nice hidden little liquor stash in his den or office, which seemed like a great shame right now. But the cook probably had cooking wine or something. Where would she hide it? He _reaaaaally_ wanted to get drunk now.

Ignoring that fact that he was already quite sloshed, he pushed off the table, staggering to the counter. Mumbling to himself, he knelt down, opening cabinets and pulling stuff out with a loud clatter onto the floor. Oh, the housekeeper wouldn't like that in the morning, but it wouldn't have been a problem if the wine was right in the forefront of the cabinet.

"…what are you doing?"

Listing to the side, Seto looked over, staring blankly at the blond in the doorway. Then, determining that this was nothing more than a very cruel dream brought on by the bad wine, and firmly believing that more wine would make the dream go away, he turned back to the next cabinet, dropping pots and pans onto the floor.

If he was surprised the next moment to find arms wrapped around him, tugging him upright and away from the cabinet, he didn't protest too greatly. This was such a mean mean dream, but it was familiar, and he hadn't had a dream like this since Jou left. He didn't like it, but he didn't want it to stop, either.

For a few moments, Jou just held him, and Seto let him. It was comfortable and nice and mean of his mind to show him this. So nice…

Finally, Jou ventured forth with a soft, "It's really bright in here, huh?"

Seto shifted, burying his face in the blond's shoulder, but his words were audible enough, if a little slurred. "Said I'd leava light on for yoooou…"

A soft chuckle floated from the surprised blond, and Seto gave a small smile himself, feeling the rumble in Jou's chest. "Well, you definitely left me a light. I could see the glow all the way from Yuugi's house."

"Had to be bright so you'd _see_ it…"

Another soft chuckle floated up. It was nice.

They stood like that a little bit more, long enough for Seto to get lulled into a light doze. He could stay like this. He didn't mind _this_. Jou was here, even if it was only a dream, and so long as Seto had this, he didn't feel so bad. He'd wake up feeling cruddy in the morning, but there were solutions to those sorts of problems. Right now, right here, this was good.

Dream-Jou, however, was leaving. Or attempting to.

Growling softly in his throat, the businessman's hands tightened on coarse fabric, stopping Jou from pulling away. Seto wasn't _about_ to let Jou go, not even if it was just in his head. He wouldn't let Jou leave again. If Jou vanished right now, Seto would never get him back. He couldn't handle that, not right now when he was drunk and vulnerable and defenseless.

Above him, Jou sighed, fingers running through chestnut hair. "Alright, alright, I won't go. Come on, let's go to bed."

Had it been any other time, Seto would have responded to that sentence with an innuendo of his own. Now, though, he just nodded, letting Jou lead him up the stairs and into bed, like a docile dragon. Ready to spring to life at any second, but content to sit and watch for right now.

Somehow, Jou seemed to understand that separation wasn't going to be tolerated, and didn't bother trying to change clothes. Made sense, since he was just a dream. Instead, the blond pulled him down to the bed, burying them both under silky covers.

Seto sighed, watching his dream through half-lidded eyes, and something in the sound or on his face made Jou frown, running his fingers through dark hair again.

"What's wrong, Seto?"

For a moment, Seto didn't want to answer. Wasn't that the way it worked? If you admitted out loud that it was a dream, the dream stopped. Something like that. Too sad, didn't want to do that right now.

So he just closed his eyes, and shook his head. "I think I'm going to cry in the morning. This is too mean."

He missed the look of startled confusion that came to the blond's face, or the way Jou's fingers paused in bafflement in his hair. By the time Jou asked the question, Seto was already asleep, sleeping the deepest sleep he'd had in months.

It was all a dream anyway. Might as well take advantage of it.

**XXXX**

Morning brought sunlight and a splitting headache. Groaning, Seto pulled the covers up, burying his head under the pillow and cursing every god in the world that decided _sunlight_ was a good wake-up call. The lights in his room were off, so he supposed Mokuba must have already come home and turned everything off. Or his housekeeper, either or.

Remembering the mess he'd made of the kitchen, he grimaced under the covers. Oh, he hoped it was Mokuba. His housekeeper was a little bit scary when she was angry.

Eventually, he decided that he couldn't spend all morning in bed, and he forced himself upright. He spent some time staring at the other side of the bed, curling his fingers around an imaginary hand, but the sinking feeling in his chest and the tears prickling in his eyes hurt too much for him to deal with right now, so he pushed the thought out of his mind and got up.

A shower helped. The fact that the windows in the bathroom were frosted and let in half the light helped even more. And someone downstairs probably had some hangover remedy, so that was the next stop.

Sure enough, as he descended the stairs (slowly and in pain), he could hear Mokuba's excited voice coming from the kitchen. Seto supposed the boy was talking to the cook or the housekeeper, but he was too far away to hear the other person's voice. Oh well. Maybe they would have something to help the headache.

Stumbling through the doorway, he glowered at the table and the floor and the shiny refrigerator reflecting the sunlight, because they all sucked and they were not feeling the way _he_ was feeling. For Mokuba, he managed a small smile, and for Jou, he managed a little bit bigger one, but he glared at everything and anything else on his way to the fridge. He had the feeling that _milk_ would help. A nice cool glass of-

The milk dropped out of his hands and spilled to the floor. Ignoring the mess, Seto whirled around way too fast, staring in wide-eyed wonder at the second person in the kitchen.

Then he had to reach out and clutch the countertop, because his headache didn't appreciate the sudden increase in velocity the slightest bit, but he never removed his eyes from the other male.

"How—? Why—? You—…what?"

Either he was still dreaming, or this was real.

He hoped it was real. He didn't think he could take it if it was another dream.

Jou understood the question in there well enough, because he stood, holding out his arms. "It's not a dream, Seto. I'm really here."

There were question floating through Seto's mind. Questions about what Jou had been doing for the past three months, and why he never called, and why he came back, and all sorts of things. But those weren't important, not right now. What _was_ important was that Jou _was_ here, he was _here_ , and all of a sudden his headache was gone and the sunlight wasn't so harsh and blinding and everything was _fine_.

Without a word, he stepped into the blond's arms, burying his head in Jou's shoulder and taking a deep breath. He missed this. He missed _Jou_.

This time, he wasn't letting go. Not ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song 'Every Light In The House Is On' by Trace Adkins.


End file.
